Ron Loves Babies
by sarahxxxlovey
Summary: A story about Ron and babies/toddlers/young children. From Hermione's point of view/Third Person. More chapters to be added. RW/HG.
1. Ron loves Victoire

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter characters, plots, or settings.**

"Unkl Ronnie!" Victoire squealed when she saw him, and ran up to him in a flurry of laughter and blonde hair. Her blue eyes filled with joy as she jumped into his arms. The happiness was evident on his face when she gave him a hug and leaned up to his face to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Annie Mineeeee!" She exclaimed, drawing my unofficial title out when she saw me standing in the kitchen behind Ron. He set her down and she walked unsteadily, but quickly, over to me, giving me a giant hug once I picked her up. The hug was accompanied with a wet and sloppy kiss on the cheek. I laughed as she wiggled out of my arms and ran back over Ron again.

Minutes later they were sitting together on the floor in front of the fire place playing with Victoire's new doll as I sat on the couch and watched my boyfriend play with the adorable little two-year old.

He made little voices and pretended to talk out of the dolls mouth. She giggled in delight and tried to make a grab at the doll, but his reflexes moved it before she could take it from his hands. She kept grabbing for it and grabbing for it, shrieking with laughter as he teased her. Finally, he took the doll and slowly moved it in towards her face. She sat, eyes wide and mouth open in a cute little "O" until it reached her stomach and she burst out into a fit of giggles.

"'Top! 'Top, Unkl Ronnie!" she screamed with glee in her broken language as he continued to tickle her. They eventually calmed down and he took her into his lap and she sat on his legs facing him, a big smile on her face.

She took his face in her small, little hand and took the other fingers, pointing to his nose, then his mouth, his cheeks, his forehead, telling him sternly to repeat after her. He did, and tried to keep a straight face but couldn't resist the urge, and was soon grinning with elation of spending time with his first and (so far) only niece.

My stomach was slowly filling with a wonderful flying feeling. It felt like a million butterflies had been squished into my stomach and were trying desperately to come out. And it was the best feeling in the world. Everything that I thought I had seen in Ron was coming together in this moment. The tenderness that he was portraying, the sweetness that he was showing, the fatherly aspect of himself that he was demonstrating was warming my body from my toes way up to tallest hairs on my head.

And if I'm going to be honest here (which I am) it was such a bloody _turn on!_ The way that he was holding her and tickling her and playing with her was creating a pool of warmth in my stomach and was superheating my head. I gave a gasp as she stopped crying from her fall on the carpet when he took her in his arms.

"Mione?" he asked me uncertainly, "Are you okay?" He set Victoire down with her doll and walked over to me on his knees. He squatted in front of me and took my face in his hands. "Honey, you're burning up! Are you okay?" I nodded. "Are you absolutely sure?" he asked me again. It was cute how he was so concerned and everything but I really wanted him to just shut up.

So I kissed him, full on the lips, pressing mine against his right in front of Victoire.

"Yuuuucky!" she giggled, "Minee and Ronnie kissin'!" I pulled away after a couple seconds, giving him one last short kiss on the lips and giving him a giant kiss.

"I love you." I whispered into his ear.

"I love you."

**A/N: **Totally and absolutely inspired by my friend, Camden. When I went to his house the other day, his stepsister, who's two, was there. This is the story that I wrote in reaction to them together. It was **so** adorable, you have no idea. It's my favorite memory of him. So this is what I wrote, trying to capture the sweetness of what I saw. It didn't really turn out how I expected though. I wasn't turned on by Camden, and I certainly didn't make out with him after I saw him and his sister playing together.

Good? Bad? Review :)


	2. Ron loves Rosie

Hermione woke up in the middle of the night, partly because of the empty space next to her in her bed, and partly because of the fact that there was a strange singing coming from down the hall. She grabbed her wand hesitantly, careful to not make any noise. As she raised herself to her feet, she uneasily looked at the empty spot next to her.

During the occasional times that Ron didn't sleep next to her in their comfortable bed, it was extremely hard for Hermione to sleep. She would toss and turn, next thing she knew she would be awake, crying because of some nightmare that hadn't surfaced since the last time Ron had left had come back to haunt her on the one night that he wasn't there. Those were the nights when she would walk down the hall and look at old photographs, the ones that barely pushed the nightmares away until he returned.

She wrapped her dressing gown tightly around her and slid her slippers onto her feet, thanking George, who had recently invented magical warming pads for slippers, and had given her a pair for Mother's day a few weeks ago.

_Hush little baby; don't say a word_

_Daddy's going to buy you a golden bird_

_And if Mummy doesn't shoot it at me_

_I'll make you a show the whole world can see_

She looked into the nursery and gave a sigh of relief when she saw Ron's sitting in the rocking chair, tiny Rose settling comfortably in his lack. She smiled at the edited words as she stood for a few moments, watching Ron's strong back muscles flex under his wife beater as he rocked back and forth on the wooden chair.

_Hush little baby; don't you sing_

_Daddy's going to by you a diamond ring_

_And if that diamond ring turns brass_

_You'll still be the smartest little girl in class_

She stifled her giggle at his assumptions that Rose was going to turn out as intelligent as Hermione was. Hermione didn't think of herself as a genius, but Ron did. While Hermione was pregnant, Rose had always kicked right before Ron entered through the door, even before Hermione could tell that he was home. When she had told Ron about it he had said, "It's those brains you know!" and had kissed her belly lovingly.

_Hush little baby; rest your voice_

_I'll be there for you because I made that choice_

_I'll stay with you and Mummy forever_

_You and me, the three of us, always together_

Rose didn't know what he was singing about, but Hermione sure did. Right after they had found out that she was pregnant, Ron had sat her down and told her that he would be there for her, and Rose, for as long as he lived. He promised that whatever happened, he would be right beside the both of them, helping in any way that he could. She cried while he spoke those words, the ones that had more meaning then any other he'd ever spoken.

_Hush little baby; don't you cry_

_Mummy loves you and so do I_

_I love you so much, my eyes get wet_

_You're my everything, don't you ever forget_

"What about me?" Hermione whispered in his ear, just before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He jumped a couple inches out of the chair, a startled expression on his face. The lines along his face instantly relaxed when they saw her, and his eyes softened into the warm, liquid blue that she loved so much.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked, his ears reddening a little. Even after all these years, he still got red sometimes.

"No," she answered softly, stroking the straight brown hair on their baby's head, "It was more you being gone. You know I don't sleep with the empty space in our bed."

"Why don't you head to bed, love? I'll finish putting Rosie down and then I'll come back. You look tired," his tone was filled with emotion, and his voice was hoarse and gravelly from the early hour of the morning.

"Alright," she said, "but you have to promise to be in soon."

He looked her in the eye and nodded, a silent promise that he would be back in bed with her within a few minutes. She leaned down and kissed Rose's forehead, before swooping up and giving Ron an innocent kiss on the cheek.

"I love you," he whispered as their lips parted, his arms still firmly encased around Rose.

"I love you," she whispered back, before stroking his hair down and walked slowly out of the room, taking one last look at the adorable scene in front of her.

**Authors Note:**

I have a question for anyone who knows. Is a wife beater still a wife beater in England? Or is it something else? I'd like my stories to be accurate. And I didn't want to say tank top because it makes Ron sound like a girl :D!

Alright, and another question. I don't think I'm crazy (wellll…) but it makes me so mad when people say "I love you," and then someone replies "I love you too." Well, the _too _part makes me mad. I think it almost degrades the fact that they're saying I love you. I mean, I know you can't avoid it, but it stills makes me mad sometimes. Maybe I'm weird. What do you think?

Good? Bad? Review:)


	3. Ron loves Teddy

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Harry Potter characters, plots, or settings.**

"Uncle Ron?"

I looked up from the newspaper to see six-year-old Teddy Lupin peeking around the corner of the doorframe, wearing his favorite blue broomstick and snitch pajamas, all wrapped in a big white fleece blanket.

"He's in the bathroom," I hear myself say, "He'll be right back. Can I do anything for you?"

He blushed and looked down at his adorable little white-socked feet.

"I think I want to talk to him," he said, looking up to meet me in the eyes, quickly.

"Okay," I said, giving him an encouraging smile. He smiled back at me, instantly warming up.

I don't know what it is about Teddy, but like Harry, he was a little shy around me when we first met. It's still like that, except after a few minutes together he gets more comfortable, and extremely talkative.

"Do you want to come sit with me until he comes back?"

He nods and half-walks, half-skips to sit next to me on the couch. Right as he sits down, I can hear the bathroom door opening from down the hall of our little house. Teddy jumped up and immediately became quiet again, and I was reminded so much of Remus that I had to blink to make sure my eyes weren't tricking me.

Ron walked into the room rubbing his wet hands on his navy blue sweat pants and white t-shirt. He looked in surprise at Teddy.

"Hey, bud. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" he asked, scooping Teddy up in his arms and holding him up near his waist. Teddy nodded against Ron's shoulder.

He looked me in the eye and mouthed, "What's up?" as he pointed to Teddy's head at an angle that Teddy couldn't see. I shrugged.

Ron walked over to the other sofa, next to the bookshelves that he insisted on having ("I don't want your bloody books all over the house!") and sat down, laying Teddy down in his lap.

I tried not to listen as they spoke personal words.

"Why aren't you sleeping, bud?" I smiled at Ron's nickname for his best friend's godchild.

"Can't sleep," I heard Teddy mutter.

"Why not?" Ron asked softly, concern evident in his voice.

"Her," he said frustratingly. Ron's eyebrows rose.

"Her?" he asked, "Her who?"

"Vickie," Teddy moaned, burying his face in Ron's t-shirt.

"You mean Victoire?"

"Yes," Teddy replied shortly.

"Well what about her?" Ron asked.

I could see him struggling to realize why Victoire was keeping Teddy awake, when she wasn't in the house. It hit me, and a second after it immediately hit Ron too. "Ah."

"Yeah," Teddy said, his face red.

"You can't stop thinking about her?" Ron was looking down at Teddy with the cutest look on his face; it was a mix of disbelief and love.

"Yes," Teddy said yet again.

"You like her," Ron said, but it wasn't a question this time.

I realized I was eavesdropping on their conversation and immediately turned my focus back to my book. I tried to focus on the page, but the words were swimming in front of me, and I couldn't help but listen to their exchange.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, bud, but she's only four, so you might want to wait a few more years. But I'm positive she's crazy about you too. I've watched the two of you together and she practically worships the ground you walk on!" Ron said, giving Teddy a playful squeeze around the shoulder.

Teddy blushed, but I could see the beginnings of a smile on his face.

I looked at Ron, who was looking down at Teddy with admiration. The two of them really were adorable together. Besides Harry, Ron was the one who Teddy trusted the most; if Harry was the closest thing that he had to a father, Ron was the closed thing that Teddy had an uncle.

I loved watching them, whether they were wrestling on the floor, playing Quidditch in the backyard at the Burrow, or talking closely, as they were now. It made me imagine, once again, what a brilliant father Ron will make, someday. Seeing them together almost made me want a little boy; one just like Teddy.

All of a sudden, we were alone in the room. Teddy must've gone back to sleep, obviously content with the answers Ron had given him concerning his girl troubles. I looked over to the couch where Ron sat and saw him staring at me with glowing eyes.

"He's so cute," he said, obviously to judge my reaction. I kept looking him in the eye as I nodded.

"Think we'll have one of our own some day?" he asked, glancing at the door where Teddy had left as he got up from the couch and folded his blanket.

"If you want," I said.

"I do," he shot me a lopsided grin. Butterflies immediately erupted in my stomach.

He wants to have _children_ with me. We had talked about it, but not recently. He arranged the pillows so they were just how I liked them.

"Soon?" he asked, momentarily stopping from his tasks to look me in the eye.

I nodded, a giant smile now consuming my face.

"Okay, good," he said, smiling too. He now looked tired from the work of having Teddy sleep over.

"How about we go to bed now?" he asked, standing up in front of me with his arm outstretched, reaching to help me up.

"Sounds great." I replied, taking his hand.

**A/N: I liked this one.**

**Heaps of thanks to RHr4Eva for Betaing!!!**

**Good? Bad? Review:)!**

**P.S. The next chapter is about Hugo. I'm super excited for it :)**


	4. Ron loves Hugo

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter characters, plots, or settings.

When red-haired Hugo was born, he was supposed to be talkative, like was expected of the Weasleys. He was the son of a woman who was never at loss of what to say, her mind constantly turning with a seemingly infinite vocabulary, and the son of a man who never had trouble speaking his mind and expressing his feelings. Hugo ought to be loud, rambunctious, and talkative.

But he wasn't. In fact, he didn't talk at all.

Yes, Hugo Weasley was almost three years old and he didn't talk. Hermione had practically had a heart attack when she found out something was wrong with her baby boy. She had researched it extensively, sending letters to far-off doctors, experts in their field of child speech development. She spent almost every waking moment searching for the way that might get Hugo to talk.

It wasn't only Hermione who was terrified at the thought of Hugo never talking. Ron was concerned too; he just didn't "have the time to research". He did in actuality; he had all the time in the world, in fact. His advancement in the Auror department had brought newfound leisure and vacation. He had a few reasons for not freaking out and having the same reaction as his wife.

The first reason was Hermione. He knew that she would find something that would help, and she would try it. Then it wouldn't work and she would research some more, finding something else that could possibly urge words out of their son. Then it wouldn't work, and she'd try again. She was eventually going to try everything, so why should he try to find something, if she was going to find it eventually anyway?

The second reason was he. He had no bloody idea how to research something like that. He was a celebrated war hero, just as she was, but he didn't have an extensive list of his own achievements to flaunt in front of whomever he was writing the letter to, asking for help. He also felt that if Hugo didn't want to talk yet, then he wasn't ready to talk. In Ron's mind, he would come to his own terms, in his own time, when he felt ready.

In defense of Hugo, it wasn't necessarily fortunate to have an older sister who was talking in full sentences with a large vocabulary by the time she was two. But the time she was three she was reading. But the time she was four, she was writing stories. It was all very hard for the poor boy, as he was in the shadow of his perfect older sister all the time.

Back to the subject, Hermione researched speech delays in children for months. She learned all about Developmental Language Disorders, when a child recognized words, could follow simple steps, point to body parts, but they don't talk. If Hermione said, "Hugo, point to your nose!" he was able to do it. He knew his colors. If Hermione said, "Hugo, point to your favorite color!" he would point to his favorite color, a tribute to the Chudley Canons: a brilliantly violent orange.

She determined that he didn't have a hearing problem or any form of autism. When somebody called his name, he would turn and look at them with his big blue eyes. If someone said that Mummy was coming home, he would toddle over to the door and sit in front of it, waiting for Hermione to arrive at the house. He would go and get a toy if you asked him. He was smart, but he just wouldn't talk.

Hermione tried everything. She tested every reasonable (and unreasonable) theory, tweaking it multiple times to what she would think would make a better theory. They set up a system once they learned that reading to the child could help. Hermione would read to him when he got up, Rose read to him while they were at the Burrow, and Ron read to him before he went to sleep, since he wasn't around for the other two options.

They used simple language with him, trying to keep any confusing words away from him. It was already fairly primitive conversation; seeing as Ron didn't have a vocabulary nearly as big as Hermione's, but he was doing admittedly better, as was Hugo. By the time he was two, he was making noises that could sometimes resemble words…if you listened hard enough.

They gave him positive enforcements normally, and didn't keep the secret from Rose, knowing that she was mature enough, even at her young age, to know enough that she would be able to help them. They didn't tell him to use his words too often, fearing that it would lead to more frustration at the fact that he didn't talk.

One night, Ron laid with Hugo, reading his favorite book to him: the ancient copy of _The Tales of Beedle and Bard. _Ron started off slowly, articulating each word, speaking clearly. He was sure that Hugo already had the words memorized by heart; after all he had read the stories to his son from the worn book again and again. Hermione and he used to read the stories together, but now it was more of a father-son bonding sort of experience.

"Daddy?" a tentative voice called out, crisply and clearly.

Ron ignored what he was sure to be Rose calling for another glass of water down the hall. She was so demanding sometimes.

"Daaaaddddy," the voice whined. Something hard and small hit him on the shoulder, but he kept reading.

"DADDY!" the voice screamed. Now it seemed like there were a shower of things that were small and hard hitting them. He looked at Hugo and saw him punching him repeatedly on his arm, hurtling his tiny, balled-up fists at Ron's body.

"Daddy," Hugo said.

Wait a second…Hugo _said?_

Hugo…said…

"HE TALKED!" Ron jumped up onto the bed, pulling a tiny (and a little terrified) Hugo up into his arm, nuzzling his red hair and laughing with delight.

"'MIONE! ROSE!" he shouted, "GET IN HERE!" Hermione was immediately at the door, eyes ablaze and wand in hand.

"_Honestly_, Ronald, what's wrong with you? Rose is sleeping and-"

"Mummy?" a sleepy Rose asked, tugging on Hermione's nightgown and rubbing her eyes with her hand, "Why's Daddy being strange?"

"HE TALKED!" Ron shouted, still jumping up and down on the bed. "I _swear_ Hermione on my life that my little boy just _talked_!" Hermione's mouth fell open in shock. Then she shrieked and ran to the bed where Ron and Hugo were, holding her arms out in an almost Mrs. Weasley sort of way.

"My baby _talked!_" she said, bawling and holding Hugo tight in her arms and sobbing into the clueless boy's little shoulder.

After all the commotion had died down, Rose spoke, still standing in the doorway.

"What's all the ruckus about?" she asked.

"Hugo spoke," Hermione said, still wiping her eyes. Rose rolled her eyes.

"You two are so thick. He's been talking for years!" she rolled her eyes again and walked out of the room, muttering as she went, "Jeez, I got out of bed for _that?_"

"F-f-for _years?"_

**A/N: My mother is a speech therapist and has been for almost twenty-five years, so I asked her (and researched on my own) a lot for this story. I'm really sorry if any of the information isn't correct! :/**

**Thanks to Rhr4Eva for betaing 3**

**Good? Bad? Review****:)**


End file.
